The Hallway's Cold And The Lights Are On
by Amerihawk
Summary: After New York, Clint's in a bad way. He's flashing back, hallucinating. And, somehow, Steve is the only one to notice that there's something wrong. Because he's been there too and knows exactly what Clint needs. Though neither of them count on actual feelings, because love has always been so hard to come by.
1. Awake

Chapter 1- Awake

* * *

Clint sat in the comfortable chair, though he had never felt so uneasy in his life. Going into battle was one thing, but sitting here and talking about his feelings was a completely different experience, one that Clint never wanted to repeat. He hated opening up. He hated being anything less than stoic. He'd never really found someone with whom talking was simple. Everything was always so complicated, his emotions, his reactions. Stark had made him a device more mechanically stable than a hearing aid to help with his deafness and Clint found that it worked more than well enough for his liking. Sometimes it was faulty, as with all technology, but it worked well for the most part. He thought that when he started to grow closer to Natasha, that they would be able to talk freely, but Natasha was another person in his life who preferred things to be internal. She didn't like speaking about herself, something that endeared her to Clint and distanced her.

There were some days in Clint's life where he longed to be able to open himself up, to let his emotions pour out of him like waterfalls. There were also some days, and these were more frequent in number, that Clint was glad he was shut off emotionally. Emotion could be used against you. As an assassin, that wasn't helpful to anyone. As an Avenger, well that was even less so.

"Agent Barton?" A stern voice snapped Clint out of his own head.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," the woman said, kinder this time, "I would just rather you vocalise what's going on internally. That's the point of these sessions. Director Fury just wants to monitor the extent of Loki's mind compulsion."

Clint nodded, because that was fair. Sometimes, Clint would feel an ache in the back of his mind and Loki's sharp, maniacal laugh would erupt and fill his mind. "I can feel where the compulsion used to be, if that makes any sense. I don't feel bound anymore, though."

The therapist, Clint couldn't remember her name, nodded and scrawled something on her papers. "I know this is probably an irritating question for you, but how does it make you feel?"

Clint laughed darkly. "What? The fact that an egomaniacal _alien_ possessed my mind and made me attack my own team? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I asked you, Agent Barton." she replied.

"Aren't you supposed to be the one who's a master of psychoanalysis? Shouldn't you be able to tell these things just from speaking with me?" Clint felt the hot rage build up around him like a wall, closing in all around him. His breathing became shallower and he glowered at the woman in front of him. "You know what, _fuck this_."

He hated thinking about what Loki had done, let alone talking about it. Loki had made him betray his team, the people he was loyal to. He had tried to kill Natasha and her skill alone kept him from doing so. He still felt more than responsible for the death of Phil Coulson, even though Natasha said it was probably just survivor's guilt. Casualties of war often included some element of the concept.

Clint got up swiftly, letting the door fly shut behind him, leaving the therapist's words to become lost.

He thought that he'd be alone outside the office, but it turned out that solitude never happened when one desired it. There, on one of the waiting couches sat the pinnacle of patriotism himself, Steve Rogers.

Clint took a moment to wonder what the Captain was doing outside a shrink's office, but then realised that he knew next to nothing about the man, aside from his fighting style. Clint figured that it could use work and would inform the Captain whenever they were doing strategy sessions.

"Tough time?" Steve asked, his voice clipped.

Clint shrugged. "What's it to you?"

Steve shrugged, holding his hands up. "Didn't mean anything by it, Barton. I just know that dealing with therapy isn't always as straightforward as people think. Not everyone adjusts to having a stranger accessing their deepest thoughts and fears."

Clint folded his arms neutrally, gesturing for Cap to continue as he sank into the opposite chair.

"Well, Fury's mandated some time for me to adjust after coming out of the ice. Everything's still very much jumbled in my head and I don't really know how to untangle it. I just think that sometimes psychology is very convoluted and needs a wider scope sometimes."

Clint knew what he meant. The woman he had seen always attacked his problems from the same angle, never really branching out to look for other causes or other solutions. One was enough, apparently. He didn't think that she was too good at her job but, given the amount that either Fury or Stark were paying her to live in Stark Tower with them, there must have been something that both Clint and Steve were missing.

"Must be indescribable," Clint muttered, "waking up seven _decades_ after you thought you died." A smile swept across his face. "I was there, you know, at Times Square when you…woke up."

Steve frowned, new information coming to light. "You were?"

"Sure," Clint said easily, "perched on top of one of the lower buildings with a tranquiliser in my quiver, ready to take you down if you got aggressive with the locals. Fury's orders. I said to him that the day Captain America becomes mindlessly aggressive in the heart of America itself is the day that Widow loses a fight."

Steve laughed a little at this, but it was half-hearted, like he was laughing in order to hold something back from Clint. Even though Clint spent most of his time watching people, he couldn't figure this one out.

"I say something wrong, Cap?"

"No," Steve waved his hand lazily, "just don't like thinking about the day I woke up. That whole charade with the baseball game, making me think I was back in my time. I figured it out instantly. As soon as I realised that Peggy wasn't at my bedside, I knew. The baseball game confirmed it, because I was there, you know?"

Clint nodded. "Hill was furious about that slip up. Never seen her so fired up about something, except for maybe…Loki."

Steve winced, knowing that Loki was a sore spot for Clint. Clint shook his head to clear the laugh from his mind. The same laugh, a three-tone guffaw that sent a jagged pain through his body. "You don't have to talk about him," Steve suggested kindly.

"I gotta at some point, Cap. Shrink says I can't spend my life hiding away from my pain."

Steve snorted. "Yeah? Well, fuck what she says."

Clint mock gasped. "Did the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan just say _fuck_?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Eat shit, Barton."

Clint chuckled lightly, glad for the levity. Then he realised something that the therapist had actually called him out on correctly in an earlier session...

" _You don't allow people to address you by your forename, do you, Agent Barton?"_

 _Clint shrugged. "I'm an agent, we use surnames or sometimes codenames."_

" _What about with your friends?"_

 _Clint paused and knew that his silence tipped her off towards the real truth. He didn't_ have _any friends outside of work._

" _Ah, I see. Well, that's all for today…Agent Barton. I'll see you next week."_

 _Clint had gotten out of his seat so quickly that day._

"Call me Clint? I feel like fighting side by side against an alien invasion means that first names are probably more appropriate."

"I didn't think you _wanted_ people to call you Clint," Steve remarked coolly.

Clint sighed. "After Lo—the compulsion…it's one of the only things I have that isn't tainted, you know? I can hear him saying "Agent Barton" in my head and I don't want that."

"That's smart. Since we're on first names terms and all, how about you stop this Cap nonsense and call me 'Steve'?"

"Can do, Cap," Clint replied. " _Fuck_. I mean, can do _Steve_."

Steve smirked. "It's going to take some time, I see. Uh, I'd probably better get this over with."

Clint nodded understandingly and smiled as he stood. "Yeah, sure. Hope it goes okay for you. Steve."

"Thanks, Clint."

Clint left the space as Cap— _Steve_ (god damn it) entered the therapist's office and settled down for his hour of psychological fun and games. Clint ignored the low buzz of people as he slipped into the elevator, sending it to Floor 12, Clint's personal floor. The doors opened slowly as Jarvis welcomed him onto the floor.

Clint shook his head at the advancement of the A.I, even though there wasn't a lot that Tony Stark couldn't configure. Clint padded past his bedroom and headed straight for the enhanced archery range that Tony had provided for him as a method of stress relief. In his words, "masturbation and sparring with Widow only do so much, Barton".

As Clint picked up an arrow and positioned it accordingly, Jarvis' voice stopped him from firing.

"Apologies, Mr. Barton, but the elevator has received a request to be taken to your floor."

"Who is it?"

Jarvis hummed. "Miss Romanoff has asked or, ah, _demanded_ rather, to see you. It doesn't look like she'll be backing down anytime soon."

Clint chuckled because even A.I technology was intimidated by Natasha. "Send her up, Jarvis. And thank you."

"No problem, Mr. Barton. Have a nice day."

Clint set his bow down on the counter as he waited for the imminent arrival of his best friend. He already knew what she was going to say when she appeared and he didn't know if he wanted to hear it at this very moment in time.

"Blowing off some steam?" Natasha's husky voice approached him before he even saw her.

Clint turned to greet her. "Yeah, and I already know what you're going to say or, rather, ask."

Natasha shrugged. "Can't blame a girl for trying. How was your session?"

"Not bad. Pissed me off towards the end, though. The usual."

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, you know that what happened in New York or before it wasn't your fault."

"I know, Nat. I just still feel guilty. He took control of my mind so easily. If it wasn't for you, I would've been fighting against you guys in New York."

"But you weren't. Focus on the fact that we won. It's over. Next time someone tries to take control of your mind, you'll be prepared. Fight harder, Clint. Don't let it happen again, take control of _yourself_ so other people can't."

"You're right, as always. Thanks, Nat."

She chuckled. "It's what I do. Anyway, I hear that Brock Rumlow is newly single."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Not this again. Rumlow's an ass."

"Ooh, you're right. I know Grant Ward's looking for a guy."

Clint frowned. "Not my type."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "How is he not your type?"

"I don't know. He's too serious all the time, makes laughing a rarity."

"Ugh, don't want that," Natasha agreed. "Well, I'll keep looking."

At this point, Clint wanted to yell at her for consistently looking to match him up when he didn't want to be matched up. But he wasn't going to yell, what would that achieve? Nothing. So he turned to her and inhaled deeply. "Nat, I appreciate what you're doing, but I'm okay on my own. _Really_ , I am. With everything going on in my head, I have more than enough to deal with without boy trouble going on too."

Natasha shrugged. "I didn't think about it like that, Clint, I'm sorry."

Clint shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I just wanted to get my mind sorted out. Tell you what, once this mess with my head is over, you can go crazy and find me all kinds of dates."

A smile appeared on Natasha's face, the kind she could only get from being told she was allowed to meddle in something. There weren't a lot of things she loved more than matchmaking, even though she was currently horrible at it. Clint made a face at the thought of dating Brock Rumlow, because that was nasty. Brock was a pure asshole and everybody knew it. Aesthetically, he wasn't _horrible_ to look at, but there had to be more to it. He would admit to himself that he made excuses when the subject of Grant Ward came up, because he actually had no idea how much the man smiled. He just wanted to hedge his way out of a date. Natasha probably knew as much.

"I'll leave you to your training," Natasha murmured as she swept out of the room, probably going back to tease Jarvis some more.

Clint sighed as he rubbed a hand through his hair and loaded his bow, squeezing one eye closed and taking a deep breath in to steady his hands. Letting the arrow fly towards the first target, Clint smiled automatically as the head pierced the centre of the target. As he loaded another arrow, he realised that the centre was too easy a target to aim for. Remembering something that Stark— _Tony_ mentioned to him upon his arrival, he coughed.

"Jarvis, pick a random spot on the second target for me," he instructed and he heard the A.I whizzing to life.

"Certainly, Agent Barton," Jarvis replied and suddenly a bright laser burned into a spot on the second target, a few centimetres left of the bullseye and a little higher.

"Thanks," Clint said before readying his bow once more. Altering his stance slightly to facilitate the more difficult target, Clint focused before releasing the arrow. As usual, it hit the target dead on. He was an Avenger now, there was no room at all for missed shots.

"Nice shooting, Agent Barton," Jarvis commented from his natural position all around Clint.

"Thanks Jarvis," he hollered back before moving onto the third target, a moving target. He specialised in hitting moving targets. Clint scoffed at the fact that Tony had barely implemented a challenge for him.

The fourth target provided a burst of smoke made to distract the archer, impairing his vision slightly. Shaking his head, Clint fired through the smoke and hit exactly where he needed to be. Damn, he was good.

Clint would later reflect on this and wish that he was as good as other things as he was at archery.


	2. Something's Coming

Chapter 2- Something's Coming

* * *

Clint sighed as the therapist, whose name he later learned was Emily, looked over her glasses at him. He had not long sat down, ready to face the analysis of his storm out the previous session. Instead, as infuriatingly blasé as ever, she wanted _him_ to analyse why he had done it.

Well, that was easy.

"You asked an obvious question," he shrugged.

Emily shook her head lightly. "No, Agent Barton, I asked a question which you did not want to answer. You wouldn't be here unless there was something you refused to talk about with others, but I'm not the person you need to be holding back from. I can help you."

Clint clenched his fists, trying not to let the anger crush him like it always threatened to do. "So what is it that you want me to do?"

Emily smiled. "If you're ready, I'd like you to answer the question. How did you _feel_ about everything Loki did to you?

Just the name was enough to make Clint want to throw something. A reminder that he had lost control was even more agonising. His mind swirled as he fell back into an old memory, one he wished he would never touch.

 _Loki laughed loudly reasonably far away from Clint as he sat in what any normal person would call a cell. Loki simply called it "a means for security" which deep down Clint knew was utter bullshit. Though his factory settings had been rerouted so that everything Loki said made sense. When Loki suggested that he sit down, Clint realised that nothing had ever been more logical than sitting down at that very moment. It hadn't mattered that he didn't_ want _to sit down, he had just done it._

 _Loki appeared at the door, watching him with interested eyes. "It's time, Agent Barton."_

 _Clint looked up, not sure what Loki meant. A feeling washed over him like something big was about to happen. He felt a miniscule part of mind scream at him, telling him that something was wrong. Though as he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't pinpoint what that was. Clint's senses were usually razor sharp, but he was coming up empty. "Time for what?"_

" _For you to tell me what I need to know about your friends at SHIELD."_

"Agent Barton? Clint?" Emily called and Clint shook his head, reality kicking back in slowly.

"I was…with _him_. You asked me how I felt about it all."

"I did."

"I know the right answer is probably angry, but I don't think I'm angry. Of course, I'm angry on a basic level, I had my entire mind taken from me. But I don't have the _energy_ to be angry at him."

"And instead?" Emily asked, but not in a way that made her sound like she was prying.

"I don't know," Clint sighed, "isn't that why I'm here? To figure it out?"

Emily shook her head. "You here to get better, Clint. It won't be instantaneous, it probably won't even be clean, but it will happen. As long as you believe that you can heal, you can."

"I have a feeling this is going to be different than healing from a physical injury," Clint chuckled lightly. "A bruise fades away, a broken bone mends itself…"

"But this is nothing like either of them," Emily finished for him. Clint just nodded. "I have something I want you to do before our next session…"

* * *

After his session, Clint found himself ambling around the tower, not quite sure what to do next. He weighed his options:

 **1\. Go to the archery range, blow off some steam after therapy, which seemed to be his ritual.**

 **2\. Find someone who was free and hang out with them**

 **3\. Crawl into bed and let the world pass without him for a few hours**

Clint was about to make a decision when along came Steve.

"Hey, Clint, how's it going?" Steve had a polite smile plastered on his face like it had always been there. The national icon smile never failed to have an effect on everybody, Clint not excluded. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt faced with it, but he knew it was different to most other feelings.

"Not bad. You know how it is, facing things in therapy that you _really_ didn't want to encounter."

Steve nodded. "You know I do. Is the therapy not seeming to help then?"

"Not so far, but Emily says it's a long road so I guess I'll just have to have faith in the whole institution."

Steve felt a pang of sadness in his heart and he put his hand on Clint's bicep tenderly, ignoring the feeling of pure hard muscles underneath his touch. He felt Clint stiffen slightly and he retracted his hand immediately. Seeing Clint relax made him deflate a little. "Well, you won't be alone on this road. I'm with you, Clint."

Clint nodded. "Thank you. Means a lot, Steve. You got a session now?"

"Oh, no, I just knew you did and wanted to see how you doing, so I swung by. I hope that was okay, I understand if you need some space afterwards or something."

Clint blinked in surprise. _That was nice._ Then again, he didn't expect anything less from Captain America, a man nationally known for _being_ nice. "Steve, take a breath. You did a really nice thing, you don't have to explain yourself. I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee or something. You know, hang out?"

Steve smiled. "Clint Barton, are you asking me out?"

Clint faltered, his boyish grin gone from his face. "I…uh…well…"

Steve chuckled in response. "I'm just joking, Clint, we're just friends, of course." He trailed off and gave Clint a look that simply said "For now, anyway" without explicitly stating his intentions. Clint wondered about that and didn't actually mind the thought of going on a date with Steve, just maybe not right now. A later date would definitely suffice. Steve was the kindest man he had ever met and he hadn't even know him for that long. And he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of Steve sexually. He was seriously hot. Maybe once they spent more time together, their connection would grow and something would develop. Maybe. And that was only speaking of a time in the future where Clint could stand to be around another person and not think about himself. It sounded selfish to Clint, but it was true. He always thought about himself and his problems even when talking to other people. He had a conversation with Bruce a few days prior but was so preoccupied with trying to stay in one piece that he missed half of what Bruce was saying and politely excused himself.

Steve seemed to sense Clint's hesitation and continued. "Do you do Starbucks or do you prefer the smaller coffee shops?"

Clint shrugged. "Either's fine. I've probably had the worst coffee in the world on missions. I don't suppose there was Starbucks in the forties, was there?"

"Not even close. You'd be surprised at how many things have changed over the past seventy years.

Clint frowned. "I'm pretty sure that those changes are obvious," he said as they walked together. "You know like cell phones and the Internet."

"So helpful," Steve commented and Clint laughed.

"Let's go gramps, before you break a hip."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "How 'bout I break _your_ hip?"

Clint shrugged as they left the tower. "You can try."

It turned out that the general public didn't pay that much attention to their surroundings, Clint observed as he and Steve walked through the city of New York without disguises. Everybody knew that Steven Grant Rogers was Captain America yet nobody paid any extra attention to him. It was either down to infallible subtlety or just a transparent lack of attention. He understand why nobody would recognise him, even if Hawkeye didn't wear a mask. Clint knew he wasn't Iron Man or the Hulk or even Cap and the lack of media attention certainly didn't bother him, in fact it was better for everyone that he stay under the radar, but he found it hard to believe that not one person looked at him twice (even after the news coverage of him saving infants from burning buildings during the battle of New York).

Clint chatted idly with Steve as they took their seats in the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, but most of his mind was working overtime to satisfy his rampant anxiety, eyes flickering from person to person trying to analyse their intentions and classify them based on their threat levels. He often felt like a S.H.I.E.L.D. security database. Steve seemed to notice his trepidation.

"Is everything okay, Clint?"

 _Astute and observant as always,_ Clint though, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't know why he was so bothered by that question, but he tried not to show it. "Yeah, fine. A little cold, but nothing I can't handle."

Steve's head snapped back to them. It seemed that his Captain America chivalry also applied to Steve. "Do you want my jacket? The serum makes it so I'm barely ever cold, anyway, so it's completely fine…"

Clint chuckled. "How chivalrous of you, but I'm good, honestly I am. I will be once I get a Danish in my system anyway."

"I know the feeling. I skipped breakfast this morning so I need twice the amount of food in my next meals. I might hit somewhere greasy for dinner later to make up for it. I don't suppose you have dinner plans…"

Clint smirked. "Sharing two meals in one day with Captain America? I wonder what my mother would think?"

Steve tipped an imaginary hat. "I promise to have you home by eleven and not a second earlier. I swear that my intentions with you are nothing but pure and romantic."

Clint felt a swirl in his stomach but decided to dismiss it as a light chill combined with the prospect of food. "I bet you were a hit with parents in the forties."

Steve shook his head. "I didn't really date all that much. Girls usually vied for Bucky's attention but, sometimes, the ones he didn't like would go out with me on double dates. They never agreed to a second, though. Bucky was quite the lothario back then. Not many girls had time for a sickly, underweight proletariat in those days. I don't imagine they do now, either."

Clint looked him up and down exaggeratedly. "Well now you're over six feet and have arms the same size as small buildings. I'm sure everyone flirts with you."

Steve grew uncomfortable and shrugged it off. Before he could say something, the barista wandered over, a muscled man with a discordant boyish smile.

"Hey Steve! You want your usual?" Clint didn't miss how the man's eyes raked over Steve's form like a hungry animal eyeing its prey.

Steve smiled _that_ smile that made Clint wonder how Steve Rogers was still single. "Thanks, Dan! Hey, can I get a caramel macchiato for my friend here and two Danishes please?"

"Sure," Dan beamed and scurried to make Steve's order, probably in record time. Clint wondered what else Dan was probably willing to do for Steve, a wild flare of jealousy shooting through him.

Then, he registered something.

"Wait, how did you know what my coffee order is?"

Steve just smirked. "I have that particular gift, it seems. It comes in handy every now and then. It also means that I'm paying, so you better put that wallet away."

Clint and Steve held each other's gaze for a few seconds, neither of them backing down. Clint realised he was never going to win against the most morally righteous person in the world, so he placed his wallet back into his jeans' pocket and huffed. "Fine, but I'm getting the next one."

"Naturally," Steve replied quickly, "so did you get homework this week?"

"I'm sorry?"

"From Emily. She said this was around the time she usually starts giving out little assignment to complete so I assume you got one, too." He must have noticed Clint's face tighten, because he added a quick, "sorry if I've brought the mood down by talking about it, but that's kind of my assignment. Emily thinks that my aversion to psychology will dwindle if I discuss its merits with other patients. I don't really know any others."

Clint swallowed his premediated retort and smiled. "I'm happy to talk about it if it'll help you, Steve. I want you to get better. And also because you're currently helping me with _my_ assignment from Emily."

"Was it to drink more coffee? If it is, you've definitely escaped the judgement whip of therapy unscathed with that one." Steve chuckled to himself and Clint couldn't help but laugh along with him. Steve's laughter was highly infectious and Clint figured that if someone just as damaged as he was could laugh like it was nothing, then he could too.

"Unfortunately, caffeine isn't one of her requirements. This is probably going to sound really pathetic, but getting out and doing things is my homework. Hanging out with friends, surrounding myself with unfamiliar people, building up trust with more people."

A stern looked crossed Steve's face. "That's not pathetic at all. You've been through something unimaginable and it must be difficult to even get up in the morning."

Clint snorted, though not derisively. "Says the guy who spent seventy years encased in ice and woke up to a different _century_."

"My problems don't reduce yours, Clint. We're in two very separate arenas, here. What…what _he_ did to you was awful, as was what happened to me. But the two can't be compared. The way they affect us cannot be compared. Nobody likes to admit when they're struggling with something, me especially, but I want you to know that nothing you're going through is minor or stupid, Clint. Even if you think that I'll laugh at what you're dealing with, you can tell me. No judgement here, I promise you that."

And just like that, the weight of Steve's words surrounding him as well as their truth, Clint felt himself start to fall. This time he couldn't stretch his hands out in front of him to stop it, he couldn't rely on someone to catch him. There would just be darkness until there was nothing.

He was in freefall and he had no idea what awaited him when he finally reached the bottom. Though, somehow, he knew that Steve would still be there when he did.


	3. Closer

Chapter 3- Closer

* * *

As time passed, Steve and Clint found themselves hanging around each other a lot more than they thought. Natasha went away on a mission, so Clint found himself with only Steve to chill with. Steve had forged connections with the others in the tower, but not so much that he could hang out with them whenever he felt like it. Tony was much too engrossed in other project, as was Bruce, and Thor was barely around, taking sporadic trips to Asgard or to see Jane in New Mexico.

Steve and Clint had a pact in place: if both of them were free and one of them was bored, they could go to the other no matter what time it was to hang out. It helped that each of them had their own floors so they wouldn't disturb anyone in the middle of the night.

They often found themselves padding across the tower to the other's room at ungodly times, after asking Jarvis whether they were awake of course. Clint was awake more often than not and sometimes Steve didn't go in, just to give him the opportunity to sleep.

More than a few times, Clint would fall asleep while Steve was in there with him. Steve would be wide awake, but Clint would simply go from being comfortable and relaxed to deeply asleep, sometimes unconsciously draping himself across Steve's lap, an unexpected movement which Steve was actually in no hurry to change.

"Have you noticed how close Cap and The Hawk have become lately?" Tony whispered to Nat and Bruce as Steve stroked Clint's hair in the background.

"It's not hard to miss," Bruce added.

"You think Barton's hitting that? If not, he's passing up a prime opportunity to screw a national icon."

"Stop being gross. I think it's cute that they've bonded. I've been trying to find a boyfriend for Clint for so long now. I just never thought Steve swung that way."

"He swings every way," Bruce clarified matter-of-factly. "Steve is a people person. He loves people no matter what they look like. As long as they're a good person, it doesn't matter to him."

"He's talked to you about this?"

"Not extensively, but we talked about attitudes towards sexuality in this century and he was interested to know what the new terms meant. I explained and he identified with pansexuality. It's not surprising. We all know the story about before Steve was given the serum. He fought for himself but he also fought for the little guy, even when he _was_ the little guy."

Tony took a breath. "I wonder if he's still 'the little guy' in some places…"

Nat rolled her eyes. "What do _you_ think? Of _course_ fucking Captain America is well endowed. It wouldn't make sense for him not to be."

"Sounds like our own Black Widow has entertained some thoughts about our Captain."

"You'd be lying if you said you hadn't as well. _Both_ of you."

Bruce shrugged. "It's not like he's disgusting to look at. And he's such a nice guy, too. If Barton hadn't gotten attached, I wouldn't mind a piece of that."

"What?"

"What? So I can't be vulgar just because I'm a scholar? We have urges too, you know!"

"I just didn't expect you to be so forthright about that kind of stuff."

"I'm trying to change. I have to keep my feelings in check a lot of the time because of The Other Guy and I'm trying to not let him control me as much. It's a work in progress thing. Kinda like this new friendship. Both of them are healing, it's not unnatural that they found comfort in each other. They're helping each other. Both of them went through traumatic, although very different, they're finding ways to cope."

Tony chuckled. "I get that, I just never thought I'd see the way where Steve Rogers was stroking Clint Barton's hair."

Nat shrugged. "Clint likes people playing with his hair, though he'll never admit it. He'll sneakily find his ways into situations where you're kinda forced into it. It's therapeutic after a while. It's surprisingly soft."

Steve looked over at the three of them, who were patiently staring at he and Clint. He was sure he knew what they were thinking. He tried to rid his body of the paranoia and fear that swept over him. He had been in situations like this with Bucky back in the forties. Intimate moments that were seen by other people. Nobody ever said anything, but they thought things about it. Steve knew they were condemning whatever they thought they were seeing and it had bothered him, sure. Of course it had, he didn't know any better.

But now things were different. Clint was lying on his lap, sleeping soundly. His hands were in Clint's hair. People were watching and it was accepted as something normal. Steve knew that there were still people around who disapproved of same sex couples, but he didn't have time for people like that. He had lived in the forties and quickly adapted to a life where things were accepted. How hard was it for people to just let people love who they wanted to and how they wanted to?

A small part of Steve wondered whether Bucky would have liked Clint. Back in the day, Bucky's approval was everything to him. He had been sweet on some girl he had met at art class, but Bucky didn't get a good vibe from her, so Steve let her down. Gently, of course. Steve was nothing if not a true gentleman.

The more that Steve thought about it, the more he realised Bucky _would_ have liked Clint. He was resourceful, brave, highly intelligent, funny and very beautiful and…

Oh.

 _Oh._

Steve's hands stilled their motions, letting the fluffy locks filter through them and return to their messy style that suited Clint oh so well.

He wanted to move. He needed to move. To take some time to process.

It wasn't that feeling something for Clint was a _bad_ thing, not at all, it was just unexpected. The archer was quickly becoming the most stable thing in his life and he couldn't lose that because of feelings. He had almost lost Bucky for the same reasons and that was not going to happen again. Bucky hadn't known how to handle Steve's romantic feelings and that had been an issue until Bucky realised he couldn't live without Steve, even though he didn't quite return the feelings. He pushed them aside and things had gone back to normal, or as normal as they could have been considering what had happened.

Steve didn't want to say anything to Clint for obvious reasons. If Clint abandoned him, he didn't know who he would turn to. The rest of the team were great, but things were different with Clint. Tony never quite got past the playful banter stage between them. Thor was always between worlds, literally. Bruce was too close to psychology to help him the way he needed. Natasha was probably his next alternative as she was quite similar to Clint, but their friendship was more professional than personal and Steve didn't really see that changing anytime soon. They all worked cohesively together, though, right off the bat and Steve wouldn't want to alter that particular dynamic.

He tried not to let the blood pool in his groin as Clint shifted slightly, unconsciously rubbing his head against Steve's crotch. Steve thought he saw Natasha smirk at him quickly, but he might have imagined it. It wouldn't have surprised him if she knew exactly what he was thinking before he even thought it. She was freaky like that.

As much as Steve wanted (read: needed) to move, he didn't want to wake Clint from his sleep. The archer rarely ever got some decent sleep.

The more Steve pondered it, the more he realised that Clint only slept when he was around. His face made a small 'O' shape as he met Natasha's eye again. With a small nod, she left the room with Bruce and Tony in tow.

"Oh," Steve whispered.

* * *

Clint tried very hard not to open his eyes. He could feel Steve's discomfort in every wave of motion that radiated from him. Clint winced as he realised what had happened. The inevitable had finally arrived.

Steve was uncomfortable with the proximity of their friendship. Clint had fallen asleep on him just one too many times and this time was the final straw. Steve had realised that it was becoming a habit and he didn't like it.

Of course he didn't. He grew up in a time where things like that only happened with Bucky. What was Clint even thinking, growing this attached to somebody who was so out of his league, so deserving of something great?

He silently clenched his jaw as Steve moved slightly once more, his head remaining in a delicate area. It was like he could _see_ the discomfort etched upon Steve's perfect face. Such a face wasn't made for expressions like the one that Clint caused. He knew that much.

He hadn't been asleep for about twenty minutes now. He was just lying down, the most restful and comfortable he had been in a very long time. And that was all down to Steve, making him feel safe and at home. Like Loki couldn't even touch him.

He still could, of course. In Clint's dreams.

Just as he had that very day.

Loki's voice often flitted into his head, filling it with poisonous thoughts and more self-doubt. He couldn't quite shake it, as hard as he tried. He had asked Emily for advice on how to handle it and she had given him several techniques to both ignore the voice and to make it go away and he was _trying_ , he really was, but it was more difficult than he had anticipated.

" _It's because you're never going to get rid of me. I'll always be around, Agent Barton."_

Clint squeezed his eyes shut even harder, trying to dull the vicious lilt of Loki's voice in his head.

" _You can try as hard as you want, I'll still be here. I'm the only one that's going to stick around when things are tough. You think your new friend is going to be around when he realises?"_

Loki wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. He knew that Steve wasn't going to stick around once he found out that Clint…well, that Clint wanted him to be around all the time. Steve wasn't going to want a complete mess, not when Steve was working through a shit ton of personal issues that Clint would only add to. It was about time Steve wised up and realised he should be around much better, much more normal, people.

" _You're a burden to him, you know that don't you?"_

"Shut up," Clint grunted under his breath. His body turned cold once he realised he had spoken.

"Clint? Are you awake?"

Clint gritted his teeth and he suddenly wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"Yeah."


	4. No One's Here To Sleep

Chapter 4- No One's Here To Sleep

* * *

" _Clint? Are you awake?"_

 _Clint gritted his teeth and he suddenly wanted the ground to swallow him up._

" _Yeah."_

"How long have you been awake, exactly?"

Clint knew it.

Steve was uncomfortable with having Clint lying on him but didn't want to wake him out of pity, or fear that he would retaliate after being woken from a broken, restless slumber.

"Not too long. A few minutes at most." Clint rose up from his comfortable position on Steve's lap, rubbing his eyes vehemently. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. Your legs must be dead."

Steve shook his head. "No, I didn't mind. Honestly."

 _He's lying_ , the Loki voice uttered in his mind.

"It won't happen again. Next time, I'll just head to bed, I promise. That can't have been comfortable. That's why I have a bed, right?"

"Clint, I—."

"I'll see you later, Steve," Clint muttered, brushing past the other man on his way to the elevator.

"Are you okay, Agent Barton?" Jarvis asked kindly as he waited for the elevator. Well, as kindly as an AI could be in his monotonous voice.

"Yeah," Clint replied in his hoarse voice, "I'm fine, Jarvis. Thanks for asking."

 _You're not fine_ , the voice crept up again. Clint couldn't help but listen to it. _Look at you, you're a MESS. You can barely put a sentence together without wanting to fall apart. And I don't even blame you. Who would even want to listen to your pathetic life stories? I know I was bored listening to you recounting intel about your teammates. Get a grip of your sorry self, Barton._

Clint slipped inside the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, he saw Steve running towards him.

"Clint, wait!"

But it was useless. The doors were closing and Clint was trapped with just the cynical voice of Loki to keep him company. He was going up seventeen floors and, even with the speed of the Stark elevators, he was going to be alone for a considerable amount of time. Jarvis could not control or have access to the elevator as it moved, though he could while it was stationary.

 _You're alone, Barton. With just me for company. How does that make you feel, huh?_

"Not now," Clint hissed, eyes aching from keeping himself from crying. "I'm _tired_."

 _Now you're speaking back to me? This is new. I have to say, I don't enjoy the backtalk._

"Then stop initiating conversation, then!" Clint roared as the elevator doors pinged open.

"Floor Seventeen for you, Agent Barton," Jarvis announced pleasantly.

"Thanks, J," Clint muttered, padding across the carpeted floor to his room. He was looking forward to just spreading out on his bed and cuddling up into his pillows, letting sleep claim him in what he prayed with a dreamless, peaceful rest.

Sadly, it was not to be.

The first obstruction was the bulky figure that already claimed space on his bed.

"Steve?"

Steve turned around, looking at Clint with frustrated, desperate eyes. "I took the stairs," Steve explained, answering Clint's unasked question.

"What are you doing up here?"

Steve looked as though Clint had asked the stupidest question in the entire world. "I came to check on you, of course."

Clint sighed. Of course Steve came to see if he was okay. Steve was _that guy_.

 _And you've gone and fucked it up, as usual. Good job, Agent._

And it was only a matter of time before Clint Barton snapped.

"I don't need you constantly checking up on me, Steve. I'm a big boy, I can handle myself just fine thank you!"

If Steve was taken aback by Clint's words or tone, he didn't show it.

"And while we're on the subject, you could have just woke me up if you were uncomfortable! You didn't have to leave me there while you clearly wanted space."

Steve frowned. "Clint, what are you really mad about?"

 _Yes, Agent Barton, what ARE you really mad about? Because you're doing a god damn awful job at explaining yourself. You're not even making any sense._

Clint gritted his teeth. "I'm _mad_ because you don't seem to understand anything about me, but you pretend like you've got this superior read on me that nobody else has!"

"I thought we understood each other."

"Well, clearly you were misinformed about that, weren't you? You know, Steve, if all you wanted was somebody to _fix_ , how about you start by taking a long hard look at your own situation, because that's a lot more fucked up than whatever shit I have going on."

"Clint, do you want me to give you some space and come back in a little while? It'll give you a chance to calm down and think about what it is you actually want to say to me."

"I know what I want to say, but you're not _listening_ to it! Because you've got me all worked out, right, so what I say doesn't even compute with you, right?" Clint was seething and he wasn't even sure why. It was probably Loki's doing.

 _You're fucking this one up all by yourself, Barton. Don't put this on me._

"Wrong. Okay, I'm going to go and give you some space. I'll come back later, though, once you've had some time to yourself."

"What?"

Steve paused. "I don't understand your confusion."

"You said you were going to come back later."

"Yes. And?"

Clint threw his hands up, completely exasperated.

 _And here we go._

"Well, why would you do that?"

Steve's mouth opened slightly as the realisation hit. Clint was _trying_ to push him away. For whatever reason, he was trying. And it wasn't going to work. Steve needed Clint just as much as he thought Clint needed _him_. "Because I care about you, Clint. Because I want you to be happy. So I'll come back to see how you're doing. You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

Clint hated the satisfied smirk that settled on Steve's face. "What I didn't want you to come back?"

That stung more than Steve expected it to. "I'd still do it, anyway. I'll keep coming back until I know that you're alright. That's what friends do, Clint."

"People aren't supposed to be like this."

"Like what?"

"Patient. Understanding. People are supposed to realise when they're not wanted and leave it at that! Stop bugging me, trying to think that you understand every little thing about me when you definitely don't! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a therapy session and I'm already late."

* * *

Clint was in a foul mood by the time he sat in front of Emily, his jaw trembling and his leg shaking uncontrollably.

She noticed it immediately. "Clint, is there something in particular you would like to share today?"

And the dam was broken.

"People just think that they can catch onto one specific thing and then know you forever. Know everything about you including all of your nuances and don't allow room for change. And not to mention people sticking around when you make it _extremely_ clear that they are not welcome in your life! Because nice people don't exist, Emily, they just _don't_. I've been on this planet long enough to know that people don't just do things from the kindness of their hearts. There's an agenda involved, always.

"And when people turn their attention to someone with a lot of current problems, there's definitely a clear agenda. They want to assuage their own personal guilt or whatever by taking them on as some sort of charity case and it sucks. Sure, it seems like a nice thing that they're doing on the surface, but once you really get into the nitty gritty details, you can see right through the shallow veneer that they've created so that their attempt to coddle you has been disguised by a failed effort at showing you that they care."

Clint was out of breath by the time he stopped speaking and he stared at Emily with wide eyes.

"Whoa, where did that come from?"

Emily smiled. "This is what I've been trying to get you to do for some time now, Clint. You've finally opened up, even if it was inadvertent. Now that you're getting to the heart of one problem, it'll be easier for you to access the rest. This is a great step, Clint. Now, do you want to elaborate about your earlier points?"

 _Yes, please do elaborate Agent Barton. I'm sure Emily would love to hear about your adolescent issues of boy-meets-boy. Definitely the kind of thing dear old Fury is hiring her to listen to._

"Uh...not really."

Emily looked extremely disappointed. "Clint," she warned, "you're going backwards. I was very impressed with how you put your feelings into words, but that's just the very first step towards your recovery. You do want to recover, don't you?"

Clint clenched his fists. "Of course I do. What kind of person wouldn't want to recover from this?"

Emily folded her arms. "I'm just saying, Clint, you seem to be hindering your own progress."

Clint sighed angrily. "Why does everybody always insist that I talk about how I feel? Why can't I just _be_?"

"A lot of the benefits of your therapy will come from talking about how you feel, Clint. You know this. I sense that you're not in the mood to talk, so we can continue from where we left off next week instead? It'll give you time to really ponder what you want to get out of this, so you can reap the benefits with a clear mind and some perspective."

Clint rather felt like he was being scolded for dropping glue on the carpet in first grade or something. "Uh...okay. Yeah, I'll just come back next week."

Emily nodded curtly. "Alright. Oh Clint, if you see Steve, please let him know that he can take the second half of your session if he wants to. Have a lovely week, Clint."

"You too, Emily," he mumbled.

To absolutely nobody's surprise, Clint found Steve waiting for him outside the room.

Throwing his hands up, Clint scoffed. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. You checking up on me after therapy is _exactly_ what I needed right now. When will you just get the hint?"

Steve shifted awkwardly. "Uh, Clint…"

"What, Steve? What are you possibly going to say now?"

"I'm waiting for Emily."

Clint felt like the stupidest person on the planet. He longed for the ground to swallow him up or whatever dumb cliche he read in young adult novels back in the day. "Oh. I'm done early so she said you can go right in now."

"Thanks. I'll...see you around, I guess."

Clint just nodded and scuttled away, like he regularly did in awkward situations, just removed himself like he had somewhere better to be.

Of course, that somewhere better was now just anywhere that Steve Rogers was not.

* * *

As usual, Clint found himself at his archery range, not alone once again.

Natasha crawled out of the shadows, her head tilted. "Are you okay, Clint?"

Clint swallowed the acerbic reply that threatened to rip from his throat and he smiled falsely. "Yeah, what makes you ask that?"

Natasha shrugged. "No reason. Just that your knuckles are turning white from clenching your bow too hard. Clint, you don't have to pretend around me, you know that. There's no bullshit between us, ever. And no judging either. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Clint started to tell the story from the very beginning. When he got to the day's events, he sighed.

"And then I realised how uncomfortable he must've been, me draping myself all over him without even asking him if it was okay. God, Nat, I've never felt so embarrassed in all my life! Then I actually shouted at him. Like actually shouted. He doesn't deserve that, he doesn't deserve me freaking out on him every two minutes because I'm a mess. I can't even make it through a goddamn therapy session without wanting to bail.

"That's what I do, isn't it? When things get hard, I bail. When I realise that I may actually be falling for someone, I bail! And now there's no way back from this, because no matter how sweet and understanding and patient Steve might be, he's not going to want to wait until I'm no longer broken to be around him. Nobody has that kind of time!"

Natasha stood still, patiently taking in Clint's rant. "Clint, you do realise what's happening here, don't you?"

"Obviously I don't and I'm guessing you're about to point out how stupid I've been." Clint resigned himself to this after his third rant of the day.

She chuckled. "Steve _likes_ you, dummy. I mean, likes you just as much as you like him. He's not going to run out on you, because he knows how it feels to not feel worth it. Remember all of the stories about Steve in the forties, always having to watch Bucky Barnes date the girls when he wanted them too. But none of them would stick around for him.

"And it's not like Steve isn't dealing with things, too. He's being patient because he knows it's going to take time for either of you to be ready for anything. And that's assuming he knows you like him. Look Clint, Steve being kind and understanding isn't a bad thing and I know that you know this. You're running so you don't get hurt and God knows you have a good reason to given everything you've been through."

Clint shrugged wordlessly.

"But Steve is different. Steve isn't going to hurt you, I can see it in his eyes. He only wants the absolute best for you. Sweetie, I think you need to talk to Steve again. And stop making assumptions that he's uncomfortable around you."

Clint nodded, hearing every word Natasha spoke and processing it accordingly. "Thank you, Nat. You somehow always know what to say."

"It's a gift," she replied simply and roped him into a tight hug. It turned out that that was exactly what Clint needed. He had to talk to Steve and explain everything and hope that the man would stick around for him.

Sure, it was going to take time, but Steve understood that.

 _But you've been awful to him. There's only so much one man can take before he gives up and goes home, right?_

For once, and what Clint prayed would not be the last time, he ignored the Loki voice in his head. Firing an arrow expertly, he smiled to himself.

Things were going to get better.


	5. What Your Heart Will Decide

Chapter 5- What Your Heart Will Decide

* * *

Clint sat on his bed, facing Steve with an idea in his head but no words on his tongue.

This was somehow harder than talking to Emily about the Loki situation. Talking to Steve about...his feelings?

Was that what Clint was about to do? Confess how he'd been feeling? Nat had said that Steve felt something for him, too, but how could she be sure? Okay, she was the best spy Clint had ever met, but that didn't mean she was infallible when it came to figuring out who Captain America had a crush on.

Steve seemed to know how to get the conversation started. A natural peace keeper, he smiled kindly. "I know that our past few conversations have been... _tense_ , but I want you to know that you can say absolutely anything to me and I won't judge you. I'll listen and maybe even be able to help. And this stays in this room, between us."

Clint nodded, sighing. He could do this.

 _No, you can't._

And there it was. The rub. The very thing that stopped him from opening up like he should be able to. The insecurity, taking the form of his most recent demon, telling him that things would end badly if he were to pursue that very line of speech.

"First, I need to apologise to you, Steve."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Clint shook his head impatiently. "Please. Just hear me out. I've been treating you like shit, Steve. Worse than that, even. I've just been so all about me that I failed to take your feelings into consideration and for that, I'm sorry. I snapped at you when you were just trying to help and that was not cool of me.

"I...have problems with trust, as I'm sure you've picked up on, but that's not everything. Ever since I got my brain hijacked, there's been...a voice. I'm sure you think I'm crazy right about now."

Steve just stared, silently urging him to continue.

"Since I got free, the voice sounds like Loki. I know it's not Loki speaking to me, but I find it hard to dissociate sometimes. What's really going on is that the voice is just my insecurity. My paranoia. My distrust, all speaking to me. What's being said actually makes a lot of sense sometimes, but I know that I can't trust it at all. It's out to hurt me. My own damn brain wants to hurt me."

Steve paused after Clint stopped speaking. "Can I speak now?"

Clint nodded.

"First of all, I don't think you're crazy. During the war, the same thing happened to me. After Bucky fell from the train, I heard his voice all the time. He kept telling me that he died and it didn't mean anything because I'd just forgot about him and that I didn't try hard enough to keep him alive. It really messed with me."

"That must've been rough."

"It was. But I knew that I couldn't have saved him. I knew that I had to mourn and win the war in his name. When the plane was going down, the voice told me that I was being selfish, taking the easy way out by dying when I could've been helping people. But that missile was headed for New York and I...there was no other way.

"We're very similar, you and I. Everyone expects me to be nice because of the suit and the name and the prestige, but I always see the darkness in people. I don't trust them, I think about all of the ways that they can hurt me. I do it with everyone. I did with you, even."

"Understandable, I'm kinda unpredictable."

"Clint, I realised that you have the power to hurt me the most."

Clint nodded shortly. "Because I'm the one that nobody can trust. Nobody knows if Loki still has pull over me and that scares you all. I know it does."

"You're wrong," Steve interjected. "Nobody thinks you're still being directed by Loki. You've more than proven yourself, Clint."

"Then I don't understand. How can I hurt you the most?"

Steve bit his lip. "Because…Because I think I might be falling for you. And it sounds selfish of me to say but I can't lose you, Clint. Not because of this. So just hit me or do whatever you need to do to process this and then let's just move on and, come to think of it, forget I said anything at all."

"Steve."

Steve just kept talking. "Really, I shouldn't have said anything, my timing has never been great but this has to be the worst it's ever been and I just think that…"

"Steve! Shut up a second, will you?"

"What?"

"If you'd let me say something, you'd hear me say that I think I'm falling for you too. But I'm scared to. I don't want to fall and have you catch me only for me to fuck it all up."

Steve stared at him seriously. "Who said you'd be the one to fuck it up?"

Clint noted how strange the invective sounded from Steve's mouth and realised he liked it. He frowned at Steve's question, however, something he didn't quite understand. "Have you looked around lately? Everyone's walking on eggshells around me, just waiting for me to explode like I did with you. I'm volatile, known to be a ticking time bomb. Bruce has to stay calm, Nat perfected complete serenity years ago, Thor is barely ever here, you're you and Stark knows that if he explodes, Pepper would leave him. I'm the anomaly here."

"The only thing you just said that makes sense is that you're an anomaly, Clint. Because you are."

"I'm glad you accept that."

"No, you don't understand. You're the anomaly because you're special. Everyone else has been tampered with in some way. We're modified and our characteristics show that a lot of the time. You're human, but you're extremely gifted with no enhanced training. I've never seen you miss an arrow in all the time I've known you. You gotta give yourself some credit every once in a while, Clint. Because you deserve it. And if you don't mind, I think I'm going to kiss you now."

Clint barely had time to nod before Steve's lips were on his. And damn if it wasn't everything Clint had imagined that it was going to be. Steve was a hard mass of muscle, but his lips were unbelievably soft, his grip tender. Clint's calloused fingers ran across Steve's shaven face, creating a delicious friction. The kiss twisted into something more tender, yet romantic. It grew deeper, Clint biting softly on Steve's bottom lip.

Steve tentatively tightened his grip on Clint's back before he broke the kiss. "Was that too much?"

Clint smiled genuinely for the first time that day. "No. I think it was just enough. I've kinda been wanting to do that since…well, if we're being completely honest, since I was eleven and learned about you in history class."

Steve smirked. "You were crushing on me since the age of eleven?"

"Not crushing," Clint replied, "just lusting over. Hey, you were hot."

"Were?"

"Okay, fine, _are_ , you haven't aged a day since the war. But you just keep getting _bigger_. I swear your arms are now bigger than Thor's."

Steve chuckled lightly as he brushed Clint's hair backwards, making it stand on end. "You're ridiculous. And that's one of the things I adore about you."

Clint blushed. "So what happens now?"

Steve shrugged. "I've never done this before, but I assume that we keep doing what we've been doing for the past few weeks, just now we get to kiss each other without it being weird. Not much really changes, I guess."

"If you're sure this is what you want."

"What do you mean? I thought we had something here."

Clint nodded. "We do. But I'm just saying that if you change your mind and decide I'm too much, it's going to hurt. I'm just trying to look out for the both of us."

Steve held his shoulders. "Clint, things could go wrong. But that's true of any situation. And it doesn't mean that we shouldn't try. Something Emily's been trying to reinforce in my session is courage."

Clint frowned. "But you're Captain America. Isn't courage part of the job?"

"When I'm Cap," Steve agreed, "but when I'm just Steve, I'm scared. I have fear just like everybody else."

"Steve?"

"Clint."

"You're never 'just' Cap. You've always been so much more than that. And I can't wait for the day that you finally understand just how important you are. To me and the rest of the world. As Steve."

Clint leaned in for another kiss and Steve gladly obliged.

"You know," Steve remarked, "I don't know think I'm ever going to get used to how good that feels."

Clint squeezed his hands firmly. "And to think, this is only kissing." He winked. Steve smirked as the Clint he knew was deep down inside reared his head.

Clint thought a simple 'fuck it' to himself and squeezed Steve's ass with both hands.

Steve squirmed. "Hey. There's plenty of time for _that_." He leaned into Clint's ear. "And I'm looking forward to it."

Clint smiled with a chuckle. Maybe things weren't totally shit after all. Maybe things were going to look up now that he had Steve. Maybe Steve would make things better.

Just maybe, there was a chance that Clint could get through all of this.


End file.
